Stone Wall
by German Jerky
Summary: After the battle with Bradley, Riza struggles to help Roy return to his formal self. Post-series. Spoilers. Rated for hinted sexual content. R


**Hey guys. This story came to me after my girlfriend mentioned how I used to be a long time ago. She was talking about how I was a lot like a stone wall that she couldn't breach. So, I decided to come up with this story about Roy, and how hard it was for Riza to help get through to him. **

**This story is probably one of the best(in my opinion) that I've had the pleasure of writing.**

**Stone Wall takes place after the series and before the movie, so spoilers are a must. The scene in the market is taken from the ending clip of the series, where Riza turns around and smiles at Roy.**

**Reviews would be awesome.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or any of its characters.**

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**Stone Wall**

A wall is much like a man's conscience. It can be thin and fragile, and break at any sense of penetration, whether it be emotional or physical. But just as it can be weak, it can be strong. Whether or not the wall's strength is built upon the foundations of pride and fear depends on the man who builds it. These reasons, whatever they are, can build stone walls that can never be demolished, let alone touched.

And it was because of this that Riza Hawkeye doubted she would ever be able to help Roy Mustang.

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The sharp stinging of the alcohol was unbearable, but it didn't show. The swollen skin beneath the bandages over his head itched painfully, but he refrained from scratching at it. The bruised, wounded muscles of his torso ached with enough force to make any mere man double over and cry. Even so, he did nothing.

He sat motionless in the bed as the blonde-haired woman worked quietly over him. Now and then, she glanced towards his face, her gaze meeting his own. Her eyes easily showed the worry in the amber depths, and she sighed before looking away. If only he knew how horrible and worthless she felt inside. How close he had been to death… If the ambulance had been just a few minutes late, he might have been gone by now.

Despite herself, her eyes welled with tears. Her hands, working steadily on the man's battered body, shook lightly. She felt the prickling behind her nose, and she bit her lip softly. Not again… How many nights had she cried herself to sleep, damning herself over and over and over again because of her mistake? She should have been there. She promised to protect him. She should have taken those bullets from Archer. She should have been there to stop Bradley from hurting him so badly. It was her fault. All her fault.

Roy had said nothing since arriving at her apartment. It wasn't that she had expected full-length conversations with the man. He was hurt, and it was understandable for him to not want to strain himself. But despite this, the Brigadier General hadn't uttered a word to her, let alone looked at her. She would speak to him, of course. She spoke when she changed his bandages and when she fed him. Even when she read her books aloud to him, he said nothing. This worried her. Mustang had never acted like this… But Hawkeye had no idea what had happened between Bradley and Roy during the fight. She had only found him at the end of it all. As time progressed, she stopped speaking as much. Eventually, it stopped altogether. When she read, she read in silence.

Her tears had since died away. She tenderly wrapped his chest and shoulder in fresh gauze, and after attending his leg it was time to change the bloodied bandages that were wrapped around his head. Scooting the chair towards the head of the bed, she gently pulled his head upwards, and then placed a pillow beneath his neck to prop him up. She rose for better reach, careful to avoid the IV that ran into his arm, and grasped the tucked end of the bandage. Unwrapping it, she folded it neatly and discarded it in the garbage can by the side of the bed.

Her hands worked steadily, more so because she hated seeing the gruesome wound that had destroyed part of her General's handsome face. After removing the dried blood, dabbing it with alcohol, and adding disinfectant cream, she wrapped it up again.

After placing the first-aid kit away, she found herself sitting by his bedside once more. It seemed useless to try and occupy herself with reading a book, much like she had done in the past. Her gaze had constantly drifted away from the printed words to linger on the poor man's wounded body. Today, she knew, would be no different. She didn't even bother.

The setting sun spilled marvelously through the window. Its rays cast a calm, golden stream across the bed. The man's figure was illuminated, and every inch of him seemed to glow. Like a God, he shone. Every hair, every mark, every scar… And all the while she watched, captivated by the sheer beauty of it.

Still, she was reminded how ironic it was. Because even though he shone like a God, she knew he wasn't. Mustang, however stubborn and egotistical and determined, was a mortal like everyone else. Despite the element he had earned through years of study, his life could be lost just like any other. This morbid reality hung upon her conscious like an ominous cloud, for she knew that only a few weeks ago, his mortality could have been fulfilled.

Hawkeye tried to push these thoughts away while she cooked the man dinner that night. Instead, she wondered what was causing Mustang's behavior. Despite the wounds, she couldn't figure out what was preventing him from communicating with her. He'd been hurt before, although not as bad as he was now. It worried her that Mustang wasn't showing signs of his former self.

However, Hawkeye only had to visit the man's room in the middle of the night to see that her suspicion was wrong. She never noticed that, like her, Roy had cried himself to sleep.

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It was about a month later when he finally spoke.

She was reading a new book that she had bought, _The Alchemist._ It was about a young shepherd boy who travels in search of a great treasure, and who discovers that there is more to his dreams and Personal Legend than he realizes. Just as she was getting to the part where the boy meets the old wise man, she was startled from her reading by the man's voice, strained and groggy.

"Read to me."

Her grip tightened on the book, and her eyes snapped upwards and locked onto his face.

Roy's good eye was focused warily on her, and his chest rose and fell unevenly, suggesting that he was have difficulty speaking. His lips were parted, and his hands gripped the sheets of his bed. If one were to look closely, they would find that they trembled.

She opened her mouth to speak to him, to tell him how worried she had been, and how relieved she was… But she realized that Roy Mustang hadn't gone anywhere since the fight with Bradley. No, Roy had been here, all along… With her.

She smiled, and it was a calm and gentle smile, filled with adoration and love. Nodding, her gaze lowered to her book, and she began reading once more, this time aloud.

Her General was back.

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"Which ones would you like, Roy?"

She stood before him, her beautiful, amber eyes concentrating on the stand filled with different colored apples. She turned to look at him, smiling as she did so. He smiled back.

"It doesn't matter. You know I'll eat whatever you get."

She chuckled softly, and turned away from him, gathering the ripest apples into the bag she held.

It had been a long, hard road to recovery since that night she had found him on the Fuhrer's steps. Little by little, he progressed. The aches and pains were worth it, he thought. Just being able to stand before her in the middle of the market and see her smile… It was reward enough.

Despite the cane that aided his limp, the two walked comfortably together on their Sunday morning trip to buy groceries. Black Hayate accompanied them, of course. On their way back, they stopped at a local park and sat down at one of the benches to enjoy the nice whether. In a few months, Roy would return to Central Headquarters to face charges concerning the conflict with Bradley. He and his staff would give their testimonies.

But being discharged was the last thing on his mind.

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The groceries were tossed onto the couch without hesitation, much like it had been before. The door was locked, and Riza didn't even bother to struggle with taking _just_ the leash off of Hayate. Instead, the dog's whole collar was removed and tossed to the floor. Despite herself, she patiently helped Roy into the bedroom, along with the removal of his clothing. Her own clothing was practically torn off, thanks to his impatience. He never was good with self-control when it came to sex.

Perhaps it was foolish for them to have crossed the thin line of fraternization. But for everything they had gone through and everything that was to come, it seemed like a well-needed reward. For Riza, it was everything she had ever wanted and more.

And what a reward it was, she thought, as she writhed beneath him in pleasure. Her moans, which at one time had been muffled out of fear of being heard, echoed in harmony with his. She knew this would never get old, more so because of the steadily growing number of times they had done this. But even though they were breaking the rules, she felt that it was well worth it. She had her _Roy_ back, if not more of him than she already had, and she would be forever grateful.

When they had satisfied themselves for the moment, they rested. Entwined, Riza found herself pulled flush against him. His arm was wrapped protectively around her, and she relaxed against his frame. Her lips caressed man's pectoral muscle, and her fingertips trailed the contours of his abdomen. Her gaze rose to his, and she smiled. Her smile widened when she heard him chuckle, and her hand lifted to gently press against his face. Leaning up, her lips caught his own and she kissed him, before pulling away and snuggling closer against his chest.

"I love you, Roy…" Her words were soft.

"I love you too, Riza. And…thank you."

She looked up at him, her thin brows knitting together lightly in confusion. He smiled at this, his gaze softening.

"For taking care of me… For helping me.

Her features relaxed, and she rose to kiss his lips again.

"You're welcome."

Then, they made love again and again.

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A wall is much like a man's conscience. It can be thin and fragile, and break at any sense of penetration, whether it be emotional or physical. But just as it can be weak, it can be strong. Whether or not the wall's strength is built upon the foundations of pride and fear depends on the man who builds it. These reasons, whatever they are, can build stone walls that can never be demolished, let alone touched. However, walls can also be built upon the foundations of love and trust. They can be breached without breaking, and strengthened without building. These walls are much stronger than those of pride, self-preservation, and fear.

And it was because of this that Riza Hawkeye knew she would always be able to help Roy Mustang.

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**There it is. I hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.**

**Please review and tell me what you think. Constructional criticism is welcomed.**

**Until next time,**

**-Bryan**


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